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1600x1600 artwork. Nice.
I hope this becomes the new normal for Intrada. Their titles always appear a little lackluster in comparison to other companies in my library because of the small downloadable cover art.
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So, I've got those 'Melancholy Blues'.
We watched this the week between Christmas and New Year, on the strength of MIDNIGHT MASS, which I had thoroughly enjoyed.
It's more ponderings on death, remorse, memory and loss from Flanagan, which seems to be his 'thing'.
It's VERY good, if a tad drawn out.
It's 9 episodes, but I feel it could have been told in 6 or 7 to much better effect (MIDNIGHT MASS was a bit shorter and benefited from the brevity).
If you're aware of THE INNOCENTS or other Henry James works, it will all be very familiar to you, retaining character names, situations and such like. Flanagan has merely moved around some pieces on the board.
It's slightly spooky, in that slow, drawn-out way, but never scary.
The characters are well-written and acted (lots of Flanagan's troupe, one starts to notice from show to show).
The last episode became a bit annoying, with things happening to some characters that didn't happen to others under the same circumstances. But I loved the B&W origin/set-up episode that preceded it.
As noted during the show itself, it's more a (tragic) Love Story than a Ghost Story.
The music, like in MM, is a MAJOR asset.
Generally tender and melancholic, in that Max Richter modern classical style.
Soft slow piano over strings informs the majority of the score, aside from some shock moments.
I seem to be working my way backwards on these Netflix/Flanagan series, but that's no matter.
On to HILL HOUSE it would appear.
This series and MIDNIGHT MASS are the only two things I've enjoyed by Flanagan.
But enjoyed them I have...and very much.
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"Got to admit I had a tear in my eye at the end of Bly Manor, sad sap that I am"
-------------------
Yes, there was a sad, wistful, tragic air to the final scenes.
You were just waiting...dreading the 'final bad thing' to happen, as we watched the two girls enjoy their lives together...and it was sad when it inevitably happened. Also...I assume the wedding the gardener girl/woman was attending - and telling the tale of it - was Flora's daughters, correct? I did read that right?
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I raved about MIDNIGHT MASS - although I don't think the final episodes lived up to the "poetry of the unknown" hinted at in the first episodes. I did like the music, very fitting, and actually interesting too, with the incorporation of hymns etc.
BLY MANOR is one I started when it was first shown, then I gave up on it after two or perhaps three episodes. But I did go back to it after Kev persuaded me, after a dare down the pub one night. Well, I finally got to the end two nights ago. Thank God that's over. I don't mind sprawling narratives, I'm not against non-chronological storytelling, but all of this "haunted love" stuff over a period of nine hours (I mean three hundred years) had me wanting to wade into the big swamp which is my back garden and just keep going, up to my neck, over my head, and down down down. It didn't convince me at all, not one bit. It really began to irritate me immensely around about Episode 7, but there was no going back at that late stage. I could go on, but I suppose it's sufficient to say that I just didn't get it.
The music was okay, good enough, quite appropriate... but it didn't "surprise" me in any way. Efficient, run of the mill, nothing outstanding.
I might watch HILL HOUSE again some time in the distant future, another one I started a while back - and gave up on - but right now I'm getting reacqauinted with sheer entertainment. I watched Sacha Baron Cohen's THE DICTATOR last night and nearly pissed myself laughing. Now I'm on ALI G INDAHOUSE (crikey - it's twenty years old) and am having a whale of a time.
It may be just a stage I'm going through - or maybe it's permanent - but I'm finding myself much more drawn to Ali G than I am to The-Henry-James-Universe of reimaginings.
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Graham...
Did you Sleep...
Did you Wake...
Did you Walk...
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Graham...
Did you Sleep...
Did you Wake...
Did you Walk...
I slept, I woke, I walked, I slept, I woke, I walked, I slept, I woke, I walked, I slept, I woke, I walked, I slept, I woke, I walked, I slept, I woke, I walked, I slept, I woke, I walked.
I slept, I woke, I walked. I walked into the water. I walked into the water. Into the water up to my neck, and into the water up to my neck and over my head. Then down, down into the deep darkness, the deep darkness, the sweet deep darkness where my love, my life, my love lies still. Where my still love lies still, deep down in those dank depths, the depths of memories, of loves past, of loves present, of loves future. Of loves everlasting, of loves eternal. The shadow of Peter Quint is long, an' ah didnae ken why he Wiz tryin' tae speak like a wee shite frae Glesgae. Henry James is spinning in his grave. Rather appropriate, when you think about it, amusing almost. Henry James spinning, me sleeping, waking and walking, sleeping, waking and walking. Until death do NOT us part.
I slept, I woke, I walked. Oh those poor children. Why do the Innocents suffer for our sins. Ah yes, the Innocents. The Innocents. The turning of a screw, heard from afar. It is an irrelevance in the timeless swamp that is more than love itself, more than Love. More than Life. More than Life itself.
If only the uncle hadn't shagged his brother's wife.
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